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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845312">change (other ways to be yourself)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legend_of_Link/pseuds/Legend_of_Link'>Legend_of_Link</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Gen, Lowercase, Mentions of Suicide, Texting, alcohol but only in 2 lines because i've had 0 experiences w alcohol, alt title: composer ignores his emotions for too long and they come back to kick his butt into gear, could be joshneku if you squint and tilt your head, no beta we die like men, postgame, sanae isn't REALLY there but he's there in spirit and text messages</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:14:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legend_of_Link/pseuds/Legend_of_Link</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>why is he here? why didn’t he destroy himself when he had the chance?</p><p>the first answer joshua provides himself with is the one thing he’s known since he entered shibuya’s boundaries: he loves his district. she’s the only thing he’s ever really loved. she owns his heart, the beat in the back of his head so constant it replaces his own heartbeat. she was afraid when he tried to destroy himself ( destroy her ), and he’ll always be sorry for that, but she understands. she was just as melancholy as he was at the time. </p><p>the second answer he sees is one that shibuya tells him more than he knows himself. you changed. she tells him that the moment joshua pulled the trigger- no- the moment neku didn’t- he changed. that since neku flipped his world on its axis, it hasn’t shifted back to where it was before. that he’s a different person, now, and that thought makes something in his head and stomach roll over in nauseating circles. so instead, he doesn’t think about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya &amp; Sakuraba Neku</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>change (other ways to be yourself)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i started writing this last may and i found it two days ago and decided to finish it. please note i haven't played either twewy game in several months. enjoy my vague, postgame joshua content :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>another letter falls to the floor, paper airplane making a soft sound against the aquarium glass. joshua sighs at its arrival, the third letter in as many days from the one he’s trying to distance himself from. </p><p>he doesn’t bother getting off the couch to read the letter. with a thought it’s moved to his hands, and he unfolds the paper with practiced motions. </p><p>
  <em> dear joshua: </em>
</p><p><em> i still don’t know if you’re getting these - in fact, i’d bet money some random person is picking these up off the ground and is very confused. but i’m going to keep sending these until i get some sort of response. </em> <em> we’re meeting at hachiko again tomorrow. knowing you, you’ve been watching us from on high the whole time, but come and join us. the invitation will be open until the end of time. i’ll probably punch you, but you deserve it and i think you know you do.  </em></p><p>
  <em> stop being a stranger. see you on saturday.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -neku </em>
</p><p>the moment he’s read the words he vaporizes the note. it doesn’t <em> really </em> exist anyway, a projection of the real letter created by the power of neku’s willpower and inspiration. joshua rolls over on the couch to face the cushions, toes curling into the crevices as he broods. that’s everything he’s been doing for the past three months, holed up in the sewers drinking the sake and wine on his shelves that doesn’t <em> actually </em> make him drunk because he’s got no blood or a brain to intoxicate and wondering <em> why </em> on earth he isn’t dust in the wind and why his game <em> still </em>stands. </p><p>he really should get out. sanae has texted him once an hour since he began self-isolating, everything from status updates to offers of food to random pictures of whatever’s in front of him at the moment. joshua rarely picks up his phone, now, preferring to drop his hands to the floor and watch the fish swarm around him, flocking to his power rippling through the glass. </p><p>why is he here? why didn’t he destroy himself when he had the chance?</p><p>the first answer joshua provides himself with is the one thing he’s known since he entered shibuya’s boundaries: he loves his district. she’s the only thing he’s ever <em> really </em>loved. she owns his heart, the beat in the back of his head so constant it replaces his own heartbeat. she was afraid when he tried to destroy himself ( destroy her ), and he’ll always be sorry for that, but she understands. she was just as melancholy as he was at the time. </p><p>the second answer he sees is one that shibuya tells him more than he knows himself. <em> you changed </em> . she tells him that the moment joshua pulled the trigger- no- the moment neku <em> didn’t- </em> he changed. that since neku flipped his world on its axis, it hasn’t shifted back to where it was before. that he’s a different person, now, and that thought makes something in his head and stomach roll over in nauseating circles. so instead, he doesn’t think about it.</p><p>not thinking about anything, though, doesn’t really leave him with anything to think <em> about </em>. surprising, he knows. he picks up one of the bottles on the floor and brings it to his lips, wondering distantly if the pad ever actually runs out of alcohol or if he can just sit here and wallow in his non-emotions forever. it’s already been what, two months? three? his phone is shoved between the couch cushions, and he idly retrieves it and turns it on to check the time.</p><p>three months and two days, according to the screen. it certainly doesn’t feel like that long. sanae sends another text as the clock hits the hour, and in a rare moment of energy, joshua taps over to his message history.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Message history with: Producer [Sanae] </em>
</p><p>[10:00] [Sanae sent an image]</p><p>[11:00] [Sanae sent an image]</p><p>[12:00] there’s nothing good on the radio these days, I swear</p><p>[13:00] thinking of adding pumpkin spice items to the menu. too soon?</p><p>[14:00] [Sanae sent an image]<br/>
[14:01] more rain. hopefully we get some sun before everyone goes crazy</p><p>[15:00] speaking of, you going stir crazy yet? you have to be</p><p>[16:00] [Sanae sent an image]</p><p>[17:00] you really upped the workload on me recently. I don’t remember signing up for so many demands.</p><p>[18:00] [Sanae sent an image]</p><p>[19:00] [Sanae sent an image]<br/>
[19:02] look who stopped by today. </p><p> </p><p>the images are all mundane; a cup of paintbrushes, the back of sanae’s hand, the view outside from the cafe counter, a closeup of the cafe sign switched to “OPEN,” a recently tagged wall. it’s the last image that catches joshua’s attention, and he’s quickly pressing buttons to enlarging the image.</p><p>his screen makes every image a bit pixely, but the person photographed is quite obviously neku sakuraba. it’s a candid shot, with the boy looking somewhere off to the side and obviously midsentence; one of his hands is blurred halfway through completing a gesture, the other clutching a cup of coffee and rooted to the counter. his headphones are hung around his neck, but his clothing has changed; joshua can’t see his entire ensemble, but he’s not just wearing jupiter of the monkey. most noticeably, he’s let his natural hair color set back in; only the ends of his signature hairstyle are vibrant orange, the roots of it a color so dark it shows up on the screen as a black mass.</p><p>all of this information sinks in quickly. after a few moments, the emotional weight of it catches up, and joshua drops his phone in the sudden flood of thought. </p><p>he’s managed to avoid <em> really </em> thinking about neku for the longest time. sure, he reads the letters as they arrived, and sure, he thinks about the long game every other minute in some fashion, but <em> seeing </em>him - even through his shoddy flip phone screen, seeing him puts joshua’s heart on a mental downwards slope.</p><p>he doesn’t like thinking about his feelings. most people, when they felt something, would try to figure out what caused it or document it somehow - joshua tends to shove whatever is making his stomach do cartwheels into a bottle and shelve it, where it will gather dust and either, one, grow into something ugly, or two, shrink and vanish into thin air. neither of those are good outcomes, he’s vaguely aware, but he has no intention of changing his methods, or investigating them. he’s sure it has something to do with the childhood abuse, neglect, and trauma; though who’s to say, really. the point is that he doesn’t touch his own feelings with a ten foot pole anytime he can help it.</p><p>now, all those festering emotions come rattling from their bottles and to the front of his mind, exponentially larger from his ignorance; the shock of neku’s words and actions, a sense of relief at being proved wrong, disgust at himself for ( well, everything, but specifically- ) eschewing his work and his city and sitting in self-pity. there’s others, too - anger, regret, sorrow, happiness, disappointment. one of those sticks out, and although he feels compromised, joshua tries to reach out for that feeling of <em> joy </em>, wanting to know where it came from, why it’s so different from the others. it’s the first time he’s wanted something since he stopped wanting his own death.</p><p>he’s happy, he realizes after moments of deliberation, towards himself. towards his city. because of neku. he’s happy, with a blanket of relief and a sprinkle of appreciation, because neku changed his views, changed his thoughts. changed <em> him </em> . neku stopped him from believing in his own destruction and made him believe in - well, <em> the power of friendship </em> sounds awfully cliche, so perhaps the power of <em> others </em>. the ability of other people to drastically change your outlook. it’s what had happened to neku, to make him do what he’d done at the end of those weeks; it’s what neku had done to joshua, as he is now realizing. </p><p>shibuya is right: he’s changed. he’s just been too stubborn or stupid or reluctant to realize it.</p><p>joshua mulls over this fact, turns it over in his head and prods at it as he regards it. shibuya tugs gently at his peripheral senses, as if softly asking <em> do you know why you are here, now? </em> , her quiet laughter hidden in the chimes of bells. he exhales a smile; she was right all along, but he’d been deaf to her message. he’d been deaf to almost <em> everything </em> , too caught up in himself to recognize <em> anything </em>beyond his own sadness.</p><p>he looks around himself, really taking in his surroundings for the first time in ages. the fish in the aquarium are swarmed around his hand, lying against the glass next to his dropped phone. the bottle he was holding earlier and its kin are cleaned up with a thought, and the soft rush of cascading water becomes recognizable instead of white noise in the back of his head. his hair is matted on one side from laying on the couch, and while he doesn’t really have a body to sweat from, wearing the same outfit for three months makes him feel just as gross. he doesn’t know who he’s fixing his appearance for, but he does anyway.</p><p>he feels suddenly tired. he feels like someone reached inside his chest and opened a long-forgotten window, and now that it’s open he can’t close it so easily. curse sanae for inadvertently causing this - actually, thinking about it, <em> maybe </em> he’d known that joshua just needed a little neku-induced push to get over himself. if that was the case, shibuya no doubt had a part in it; she sounds playful for the briefest of moments, only serving to further the assumption. joshua checks the time on his phone once more: 7:39 pm. <em> goodness </em>, but time flies when you’re having an emotional awakening.</p><p>joshua navigates to his message history and texts sanae back for the first time in three months.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Message history with: Producer [Sanae]</em>
</p><p>[19:40] interesting. any chance he’s still there?</p><p> </p><p>[19:42] look who it is.<br/>
[19:42] kid’s still here<br/>
[19:43] don’t tell me that photo was what did you in.</p><p>[19:43] i won’t ;)</p><p> </p><p>joshua stands up and leaves the dead god’s pad. he hasn’t parsed out all of his thoughts on the long game, <em> or </em> on neku, <em> or </em> on himself. but he knows two things for certain: <em> one </em> , he’s going to accept whatever changes he’s experienced. and <em>two</em>, he’s going to surprise neku with a visit to the cafe on cat street. joshua is going to see him again on <em> his </em> terms.</p>
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